pz 7 MEADE 

.8939 GenColl 

St 

Copy 2 




1 



j 


Class 

Book_ ' " 


L 


a:s4 


CopiglitK® 


St 


CePYRlGHT DEPOSIT. V! 



\ 






1 




I 


\ 



, •' / » , r . 


* , ’ i 




. 1 ,' 





7 '’ 




/ 


f 


4 

t 


.y 




»• ■ 




\ 





, t 

. * 


t 


f 



i\ 


t, 


‘f 


i 



i» . '. 


' ' ' ■. V 





t i.i 


l'> 



I 



» 


\ ' ' 


f' 







*>• 





















D 






















V 


\ 





► 


.1 


':.W 


i' 







\ 


■ t 



» 


V.^*: V 

« y ’*» -t f* 




?ii 

^ r 

4 



.» 


'•' £ 

«■. 


■ i 


0 


,1 -■ . . t 

t * 

s 






• » V 

* ■i*' 

- -.1 


^ , » 



■" ■• i 
><'■ 




t 




- A»- 




•rj 


;s 














• ' 





. I 



X 






7 ■ 

■,r '< 

A 


Ir-ij 




• .1 


k k* 






jf 



T* 


I 


t 


I 


s 





«.4 

I • 




MAin ilA ELIZAHETII LISTENING FOR THE DRVAI) 

At “The Xeedees •’ 



i/ 


SL 

■x 

ROSEMARY PRESS BROCHURES 

JtDL 

( 6 '- 9 * 

^STORIES for 

MARTHA ELIZABETH 

BY CHARLES DANA BURRAGE 


A Reminiscence of Hon. John D. Long 
A Story of a Revolution 
The Princess in the Garden 
Bear Stories: 

The Polar Bear Story 
The Grizzly Bear Story 
The Black Bear Story 

The Havana Doll 
The Dryad 

The Rose and the Violet 
The Story of the Leaf 





Posemary 
^ Pre9s 


For the use of the members of 
THE CHILE CLUB 




0 — 



Copyright 1921 
by Rosemary Press. ^ 




©:LA6308G5 

DEC "9 1921 I . 




A REMINISCENCE OF HON. JOHN D. LONG 


April 25, 1880, I returned from a brief visit to Boston, to the 
little country town where I was studying law. Although I had 
been away only from Saturday to Monday, I returned to a home 
of sorrow. The husband of my landlady had been struck down 
with pneumonia on Sunday morning, and was dead by Monday 
night. Realizing at once the seriousness of his illness he sent for 
an old-time “Squire,” who for half a century had made deeds, 
wills, &c. for the community. When, however, the dying man 
asked to have a will drawn giving his little property to his wife 
(they were childless) the Squire not only objected forcibly, calling 
attention to the fact that in such case the property would un- 
doubtedly go ultimately to the wife’s family instead of the hus- 
band’s, but finally persuaded him not to make any will at all. 

As a matter of fact the only property left was a little one and 
a half story house and small plot of land, valued at $4500. But it 
is quite likely that the wife had earned fully half of the savings 
represented in the home, for she had kept boarders for nearly thirty 
years, while he worked at the bench in the chair factory. 

Under the law, as then known, there being no will, the widow 
was entitled to her dower only, that is the use for her life of one 
undivided third part, the title to the whole passing to the hus- 
band’s brothers and sisters — who were all wealthy. Imagine the 
poor widow trying to live and pay two-thirds of the rent for her 
own home! The injustice of the situation was so clear, that in 
very shame the brothers and sisters impulsively offered to release 
the home outright to the widow, whose need was great. So our 
law office was called upon to draft a deed to the widow. Unfor- 
tunately one of the brothers lived in Kansas, with the result that 
when the deed was returned duly signed by the Kansan, the other 
heirs had experienced a change of heart, and decided that it would 
be quite sufficient if they deeded the widow a life estate in the house, 
letting it then revert to them. So we prepared a new deed giving 


4 


the widow an estate for her life, instead of in fee. After some two 
weeks further time, this deed came back from Kansas duly signed, 
only to be met with this new and final decision from the heirs, 
“that after all it was about as well to let the property go accord- 
ing to law.” So the rich brothers and sisters declined to sign 
any deed, and the widow was left helpless, save for a multitude of 
warm hearted friends. At this crisis, however, we heard of a new 
law passed by the Massachusetts Legislature, as follows : 

Chapter 211, Acts of 1880. 

Sec. 1. Whenever any person shall die intestate, 
without issue living, and shall leave a husband or wife 
surviving, such husband or wife shall take in fee the 
real estate of such deceased to an amount not exceed- 
ing five thousand dollars in value. 

Sec. 5. This act shall take effect upon its passage. 

Approved April 22, 1880. 

Note that Governor Long hastened to sign this act as soon as 
it reached him, for he was in full harmony with its purpose, being 
a life-long champion of woman. He told the writer of his pleas- 
ure in signing this act and of his own earnest belief in its justice. 

Note that by a somewhat unusual provision this act took ef- 
fect on its passage — instead of in 30 days. 

Note that the date of signing is April 22 and that the husband 
died on April 25, therefore under the terms of this act the widow 
took title in fee to the whole of the property and the brothers and 
sisters received nothing. 


5 


A STORY OF A REVOLUTION 


Its Quick Beginning and Its Sudden End 
Lisbon in 1917 

My friend Foote (Frederick W.), who expects soon to sail for 
Africa with his bride of a few months, was aroused to unusual in- 
terest today at lunch at the ‘ ‘ Chile Corner ’ ^ table, when I remarked 
to Montgomery Reed that he ought to ask Foote for his experience 
during the war with young revolutions in Portugal. Foote in- 
stantly responded, telling most effectively how one day in Lisbon 
he saw a revolution born. He (a lieutenant in the Navy with his 
ship on foreign service) was sitting with a friend on a hotel balcony 
over the main street near a square. A little way off across the 
street was a cafe filled with customers, and directly opposite was 
a National Guardsman, with loaded rifle on shoulder, tramping his 
tour of duty, other guardsmen being at their stations at the several 
corners of the square, for the city was under martial law. The 
very air was vibrant with suppressed emotion, stern repression 
everywhere evident. An automobile came slowly down the street, 
and when opposite the cafe one of its tires blew out with a loud ex- 
plosion. Instantly the Guardsman, thinking he had been fired up- 
on, turned, raised his rifle and shot the man in the car dead. 

The crowd in the cafe saw the whole, and in a wild rage of 
protest inspired by love of rough justice poured out upon the side- 
walk, seized the soldier and soon tore him limb from limb. The 
confusion attracted the other guardsmen who came on the run, and 
of course drew the usual crowd. Instantly the street -was filled 
with a wild mob fighting savagely, arms flying, voices shouting, 
figures wildly jumping up and down, the soldiers firing, the mob 
answering. A revolution of angry protest against Government 
authority, as represented by the military, was born. The noise 
swelled to a roar that reached the monastery on the hill above the 
city; a priest seized a rope and rang the warning bell, at whose 


6 


sound every one was required to drop whatever he was doing, face 
to the sacred building and say a prayer. At the first sound of the 
bell every one in the street instantly stopped, faced the hill and 
murmured a prayer, then — began fighting again. 

Foote and his friend deemed their place as safe as any, per- 
haps safer than to go inside, so they remained as passive spectators. 

The clamor sounded out over the harbor and a young Lieu- 
tenant, commanding a Government gunboat, decided to take a hand. 
So he fired a shell, that with marvelous precision passed directly 
over the heads of the mob, entered the cafe and exploded against 
the solid rear wall. As if from a crater, everything movable in the 
place came pouring out into the street, a vast upheaval of chairs, 
tables, crockery. The crowd took the hint, and dissolved, leaving 
some thirty or more dead bodies lying in the street. 

The revolution was over. 


7 


THE PRINCESS IN THE GARDEN 


A Story for Martha Elizabeth 


Once upon a time a little girl, about three years old, stopped 
to look through a high fence at a war garden, for standing by a row 
of potato vines she saw a beautiful woman, with long hair through 
which the sun shone so that it looked like fairy gold. And the 
brightness of the locks of gold rivalled the brilliancy of the sun- 
shine. And the little girl looking through the fence wondered 
greatly as she gazed at the beautiful woman, and admired the glory 
of her hair, for her own hair was like that of the woman, a golden 
crown of glory on her head. The little girl knew all about war gar- 
dens and why they were planted, for she had a little war garden 
of her own, which she had begged from her soldier father to 
help the poor orphan children of France and Belgium — for in 
these days of 1918, the closing days of the dreadful world-war, she 
had so felt and sympathized with the tortures and sufferings of 
the children of the conquered, that she willingly refrained from eat- 
ing her favorite candy so as to save sugar. 

The little girl stood a long time at the fence, resting her head 
against her arms held above it, looking between the pickets at the 
beautiful woman with the hair of gold as she worked in the gar- 
den. The woman dug around the potatoes, and hoed the rows of 
corn, and lifted up a long runner from the squash vine to look at the 
little yellow squashes just forming. She saw the little girl look- 
ing through the fence and called to her to go to the gate and come 
in to the garden. So the little girl squeezed through the narrow 
opening by the gate and went over to the beautiful woman with 
the sunshiny hair and looked shyly up into her face, smiling and 
glad. The woman showed the little girl all the wonders of the gar- 
den, how the beans climbed the poles into the air, just as if Jack 


8 


of the Beanstalk were following close behind, and how the squash 
vines ran far along the ground seeking soft beds for their golden 
fruit. The little girl listened and wondered while she heard the 
story of the war garden, and how it was started. For the eyes of 
the golden haired woman glistened with unshed tears as she told 
how the cruel wicked war came suddenly to the little Belgian town 
where she was living so happily with her family. The soldiers 
came and burned the town and all the people went away, many 
of them into distant countries. Her father was killed, her mother 
died, her sisters were carried away. So the beautiful woman hid 
herself in an old barn cellar, deep down in a corner, where the side 
of the barn in falling rested partly on the wall, making a little 
cubby-hole. She had nothing to eat, and not enough clothes to 
keep her warm, her golden hair came down, hanging loosely over 
her shoulders, her eyes were red with crying, and she sobbed her- 
self to sleep. She was all alone in the darkness, this beautiful 
woman who had been called by her friends who loved her the 
“Princess,’’ for she was so lovely, so good, and so generous. 

And now what do you suppose happened? The Princess woke 
up suddenly to find the sun shining right through the cracks in the 
roof of her tiny house, and a young man was standing near by look- 
ing right at her ! She jumped to her feet and the sunshine poured 
through her waving hair turning it into ripples of old gold, a frame 
of glory around her sweet face. Do you wonder that .the young 
man fell to his knees before her, saying, “0 beautiful Princess 
from Heaven, with celestial glories bright upon you, tell me how I 
may also gain the immortal joys of companionship with you in your 
abode beyond the skies. Accept my homage and my devotion, O 
glorious and wonderful spirit of beauty, for I would kneel before 
you forever in adoration. ’ ’ 

Then the Princess smiled and said, “O gallant and generous 
youth, your fancies mislead j^ou, for I am mortal and do not dwell 
among the clouds. I am a Belgian, struck down by the woes of 
this cruel war, my home is burned, my family scattered and fallen, 
this my only refuge. Who are you, and what do you here in this 
ruin?” So the young man told her he was a Belgian soldier, and 
was fighting for his King. He gave her food, he brought fresh 
water to her that she might bathe her face and hands, he went 
through the village and found some clothes for her that she might 


9 


be warm. Then the soldier led the Princess away from the village 
to an old ruined castle tower on a high hill. In the top of the 
tower was a small room. The roof was broken so the rain dripped 
on the floor in stormy weather, there were no windows, only great 
holes through the walls. But the soldier brought up some branches 
from a fir tree and laid them in the corner where the rain couldn’t 
reach them, making a soft, clean, fresh bed for the Princess. Then 
he found an old piece of a carriage top, and hung it up for a cur- 
tain across the corner, so the Princess had a little room all to her- 
self. 

Then what do you suppose happened? All at once they heard 
voices calling, and looking out they say some German soldiers near 
the foot of the tower building a fire under a tree. So the soldier 
whispered to the Princess to keep very quiet and still, putting his 
finger on his lips. Then the soldier crept softly down the broken 
steps of the old tower, leaving the Princess in the little corner of 
the tower room. He crept out into the shadow of the high tower 
and listened to the Germans talking, telling what they had done in 
the village and how they had driven everybody away and burned 
the houses. Then all at once one of the soldiers said, “I think I 
will go up to the top of the tower to look over the country. Wait 
here for me.” The Belgian soldier knew that if the German sol- 
dier did go up the tower he would find and carry away the Prin- 
cess. 

So he crept away from the tower into the bushes, and then 
turned around and fired his gun right at the Germans, and ran 
as hard as he could away from the tower down the hill to the river. 
The Germans ran after him, which was just what he wanted. So 
he ran swiftly, jumping over fallen trees on the bank of the river 
until he came to a high bank, when he ran down close to the water ’s 
edge, and looked up and down the river until he saw a log floating. 
Then he went right into the water, and swam out to the log and put 
his head close to the log and only just out of the water, floating 
down the river with the log. The Germans came running to the 
river, hunting everywhere for him, but they couldn’t see him, be- 
cause he was on the other side of the log. Bye and bye the log 
stopped under some bushes on the bank, and he saw a hole run- 
ning right under the bushes. So he crawled into the hole and 
found it opened into a big cave. Then he went back into the cave 


10 


and looked into every part, for only a little light came in and he 
couldn’t see very well. All at once he saw, way back in the rear of 
the cave, two shining eyes glaring at him out of the darkness ! He 
tried to turn back, but the wild animal thought he was going to 
attack it, so it jumped straight at the soldier. The soldier only had 
a moment to draw out his big knife when the great animal struck 
him and almost knocked him over! He fought and finally killed 
it with his knife, and dragged it out to the light where he could 
see what it was. What do you suppose he found it to be? Well, 
it was a great big dog, so big he thought at first it was a bear 1 It 
was a great Russian dog, brought into Belgium by the Germans, and 
he had run away and was living in the cave all by himself. 

Then the soldier dried his clothes and waded out into the river, 
and found the Germans had gone away because the soldier had 
frightened them. So he went back to the tower and told the Prin- 
cess all about the cave, and she said she wanted to see it. They 
went very carefully and quietly down the long fiight of broken, 
crumbling steps of the tower out into the darkness of the night. 
The Princess was very brave, but the night was dark, there was no 
moon, and when she crawled into the cave she put hr hand right 
down onto something that was alive and squirming, and she almost 
screamed out. But she knew in a moment that it was only a tiny 
little mouse 1 Then the Princess crept back into a corner of the 
cave and found a place covered with sand, so she lay down and 
slept for hours and hours while the soldier kept guard by the en- 
trance. When morning came and the sun peeked through the 
bushes into the back part of the cave, the sunshine touched the 
face and hair of the sleeping Princess, lighting the golden curls un- 
til the soldier thought the face was that of the Madonna. Just 
then the Princess woke up to find the sun shining straight into her 
eyes. To the soldier they looked as radiant and bright as the stars 
in the heavens above! She put her hand up to her head to pusli 
back the mass of her hair, and as she threw her head back she saw 
the gleam of something bright in the sand just before her. She 
reached over and picked it up and it was a great dagger of gold, 
with beautiful stones set in its hilt, diamonds, rubies and sap- 
phires of every hue, and all chased and carved into beautiful fig- 
ures. The Princess called to the soldier, who came running very 
fast when he heard her voice, and showed him the dagger in all 


11 


its wondrous beauty. He marvelled greatly at her discovery, and 
going to the pile of sand dug down into it with a piece of sharp- 
ened wood that he found on the floor of the cave. In a moment 
he found several beautiful rings, and then great dishes and vases 
of silver and gold; long heavy chains of gold and precious stones; 
bracelets of every kind; all kinds of jewels and great bars of gold, 
filling a pit in the sand. He was so astonished at finding so great 
a treasure that at first he was overwhelmed, then re examined the 
jewels more carefully and saw they were very old, so that it was 
probably some robber’s hoard of centuries ago, forgotten and bur- 
ied under the drifting sand, the property of the chance finder of 
the moment. 

The soldier and the Princess talked over what the finding 
of the great treasure meant to them. The soldier said the Princess 
must take some of the jewels and go away, perhaps across the seas 
to America where she would be safe and would wait for him to come 
to her when the war was over. They picked out some of the 
rings and chains of gold, and buried all the rest deep down in the 
sand again, and crept quietly out of the cave and started for 
Prance, for she wanted to go to Paris to sell the jewels there. And 
as they walked along through the fields, seeing the ruined homes on 
every side, they hid behind trees and bushes so the Germans wouldn ’t 
see them. They hid in cellars and behind stone walls and in the 
ruins of houses during the day, and at night walked as fast as they 
could towards Prance. One night they saw a great white stone by 
the roadside and knew they had arrived at last in Prance and that 
Paris was not very far away. Then the soldier stood up very 
tall and straight and took hold of the Princess’s hands and looked 
full into her face and eyes and said to her, ‘ ‘ 0 glorious Princess of 
Dreams, I must leave you here, for duty calls me to remain in Bel- 
gium with my King. You are now safe, for you are standing on 
Prench soil, and Prance ever honors womanhood. Take these an- 
cient jewels that have come to us from some bygone age, use them 
to secure your safety and your happiness across the seas in the land 
of Liberty. Some day I shall come to you, 0 my Lady of Sun- 
shine, my Golden Princess. Wait for me. Goodbye,” and he was 
gone on his knightly quest, and she was left desolate and alone. 

Such was the story that the Princess told the little girl out 
in the war garden in a little town in America. And as they stood 


12 

there in the sunshine their long braids of hair gleamed brightly as if 
masses of pure gold, as if they were turned into solid sunshine ! 
Then what do you suppose happened? 

The Princess suddenly cried out, “My soldier boy, he comes to 
me,” and ran to the gate and into the arms of a soldier who came 
up the street, limping slowly along. For the war was over and 
the soldier had come across the seas, bringing the treasure with him, 
to see again the Princess and never to go away again. And as he 
looked over the little war garden and all the growing plants, and 
saw how hard the Princess had worked to grow vegetables for the 
soldiers and poor orphaned children, he said to the Princess, “So 
long as you and I live, dear Princess with the heart and hair of 
gold, we will never be without a war garden, in remembrance of 
our wonderful experiences and preservation. ’ ’ 

And they lived happily ever afterwards ! 


13 


THE POLAR BEAR STORY 


Once upon a time, when Marguerite was a little girl, with a long 
braid of brown hair hanging down her back. Grandpa took her to 
the long wharf, on the water front, to see a ship that was just going 
to sail to the far North. It was a curious ship, for it was braced 
inside with heavy timbers to prevent its being crushed by the ice, 
and all the portholes had double coverings, and there were extra 
heaters in the main rooms, and the boat was loaded with a supply 
of food to last three years. The man who was in charge was a doc- 
tor, and he showed Marguerite his coat of fur, coming clear down 
to his heels, with a cap to cover the head. He had several guns, for 
he was going where there are great walruses, and Polar bears who 
are fierce, and afraid of nothing. So the Doctor sailed away, 
and as the days lengthened, then shortened again into the years, we 
often thought of him, and wondered how he was getting along. 
Then one day we read that he had returned, and he came to us and 
told us something of the wonderful story he had lived since he 
left us that bright day in Spring. 

He sailed to the North, keeping the North star straight before 
him and watching it rise higher and higher every night until it 
was almost overhead ! There was ice floating on every side, great 
icebergs a hundred feet above the water, and many hundreds be- 
neath the surface, with long jagged projections on every side, men- 
acing the ships that came too near. The distant land was covered 
with ice, enormous beds a thousand feet thick, slowly slipping into 
the sea, until a huge mass would break off to form a new iceberg, 
the waves caused by its irruption tossing the little ship as if it 
were an eggshell. So he sailed on and on, farther and farther 
North, far into the seas of mystery, where the night swallows the 
day and holds the sun down under its black curtain for months to- 
gether. Finally the ice grew so thick the boat could hardly move, 
so the Doctor forced it close under some high cliffs, that he thought 
would give some protection from the more severe storms of winter. 


1'4 


and there anchored. The next day the ship was frozen in solid, 
and the men could walk on the ice from the ship to the shore. 
Then Winter came, and the Storm King rode the clouds of wrath, 
and besieged them in their wooden castle. The winds blew, the ice 
cracked and groaned, and rose and fell, the ship began to rise into 
the air with the pressure of the ice beneath it, the ropes and chains 
and spars were but thick masses of ice, and it was with difficulty 
that the men kept even part of the deck clear. The days disap- 
peared entirely and it was all night — the days being counted only 
by the passing of so many hours of darkness. 

In the middle of the Winter, the Doctor said he wanted to 
make a journey on the land to explore the neighborhood. So he 
picked out three men to go with him, packed four sleds with food 
and tents, and olf they started, each man also carrying a heavy gun, 
a revolver, and also a knife in his belt. They marched slowly for 
hours and hours, stopping only to eat hastily a short meal, for it 
was very cold, and the wind cut through their clothes. The Doctor 
was behind, having stopped a moment to examine a curious look- 
ing mound, when he heard a shout, and saw two of the men in front 
disappear through a hole in the ice, where they had broken through 
into the water. He rushed up to try to help, but could do noth- 
ing, as they were gone — forever. Then the Doctor and the other 
man, the only one left, turned aside to go under the great cliffs at 
the edge of the land. As they were walking slowly, carefully, 
laboriously along the shore, the Doctor saw an opening like a door, 
or a space between two great rocks. So he went into this opening, 
and found a long narrow passage leading to a great cave. It was 
quite dark inside, so the Doctor and the man held their lanterns 
high above their heads, and tried to see what the cave was like. 
It was so high they couldn’t see the roof, so big and dark they 
couldn’t see the walls, and their lights reflected on the points of 
ice until they gleamed like so many diamonds. All at once they 
heard a terrible roar, and the Doctor saw the man by his side swept 
to the floor by a hairy paw, that tore the man’s clothes from his 
body, crushed in his ribs as if paper and tore his side open. The 
Doctor fired his gun, and by the flash saw it was a white Polar bear, 
standing nine feet high, a huge and terrible animal gnashing his 
teeth, and roaring hate and defiance. The bullet struck the bear 
full in his chest, but didn’t stop him, and with a sweep of his long 


15 


front leg he tore the rifle from the Doctor’s hands, ripped the belt 
and coat off, sending the knife clattering far away into the dark- 
ness, and knocking the poor Doctor several feet away, where he fell 
on the floor unconscious, bleeding, torn and wounded — in the midst 
of a crashing burst of sound, as if a thunderbolt had struck near 
them. When the Doctor opened his eyes it was dark, he ached all 
over, and when he tried to rise he found he couldn’t. He felt of 
his side, and found it covered with frozen moisture that he knew 
must be blood, he was so cold his teeth were chattering, and for a 
moment, he thought he was really dead. But he was strong and 
brave, and after a few moments he managed to light a match, and 
then he saw what had happened. The great bear lay sprawled out 
dead under a mass of ice. Evidently the concussion of the gun, 
when fired, had dislodged the ice from the roof, and it fell just as 
the bear struck the Doctor, and knocked him far enough away to 
save his life ! 

The Doctor slowly crawled outside the cave, out into the black- 
ness of the night, and lay there on the snow, suffering, not knowing 
how he could return to the ship alone. But just then the Northern 
Lights streamed up from the horizon, the beautiful Aurora 
Borealis, great flashing banners of light, so gloriously brilliant that 
it was as if all the gods had met in high wassail and carnival with- 
in the sacred hall of Valhalla, and were skylarking, each with an 
enormous searchlight before him flashing upon the starry field of 
Heaven. The light showed to the Doctor the ship far off. He man- 
aged to crawl close to the cliff side, then, by climbing the wall with 
his hands, to get upon his feet, and staggered painfully and uncer- 
tainly along. After many hours of weary heart-breaking travel, 
he reached the side of the ship and fell fainting, his cry bringing 
the men at once to his side. When he told his story, several of the 
men went at once to the cave. There they found the man and the 
bear, both dead, and in a corner of the cave a little baby white bear, 
a cunning little cub. So when they returned to the ship, they took 
the little bear with them, as well as the skin of the mother bear. 
But just as they returned to the ship, a great storm burst upon 
them, the ice piled up by the ship higher, and higher, and finally 
the end of the ship was forced up so high that the ship fell over on 
its side, caught fire and burned up. Then there was nothing to do 


16 


but to load up the sleds with food, and start to walk down the coast 
more than a thousand miles, to a place where the whalers came in 
Summer. The story of that dreadful journey is too long to tell 
here. But most of them, including the Doctor, finally reached the 
whalers^haven and were brought back to Boston, bringing the little 
white baby bear with them. The Doctor came out to Twin Oaks to 
see Marguerite, and the little white bear cub frolicked and played 
over the lawn just like a big dog ! The Doctor wanted Marguerite 
to keep him, but she said no, he would grow up into a terrible great 
fierce bear as high as the room, and she wouldn T want him around. 
That he ought to be put in a Zoo where all little children could see 
him, yet be kept safely. So the Doctor said he would do it, and 
afterward he did do it, as the bear is now at the Zoo in Franklin 
Park, and has grown to be nearly ten feet high when he stands up ! 
You can go there some day and see him and see what a tremendously 
big bear that little cub has become. 


17 


THE GRIZZLY BEAR STORY 


One day in the Fall of the year, Grandpa went with a smelt fish- 
ing party of the Chile Club in Hull Harbor near the Hospital. They 
had a very interesting trip and five of them caught 15 dozen smelt. 
One of the party was Col. Reber, who is now in France in charge of 
the Signal Department of the American Army. This is one of the 
stories he told. 

Several years ago when the Colonel was in the West, fighting 
the Indians under Gen. Nelson A. Miles (who was his father-in- 
law), he decided to take a vacation and go hunting for bear. So 
he asked for ten days’ leave, took a guide with him who knew the 
country, and started for the Mountains some fifty miles away from 
the camp. They carried on their horses supplies for several days 
and had a good trip across the plain. Then they came to the foot- 
hills and farther on the road wound its way up the side of a long 
canon, climbing higher and higher above the stream below. When 
they were very nearly at the top, where the road was very narrow, 
cut from the rock on a projecting point with the valley lying be- 
neath some 2000 feet, the Colonel, who was ahead, met suddenly an 
enormous grizzly bear! The trail was very narrow, there was no 
room for either to pass. The bear growled, the horse, frightened, 
rose straight up on his hind legs and turned around while his fore- 
feet were in the air I The bear jumped forward, hitting the horse 
so hard that everybody, horse, man and bear, went over the edge. 
The horse tried to save himself, so his forefeet remained on the 
edge, the Colonel was thrown from the saddle but, with remarkable 
quickness and presence of mind, caught hold of the horse’s tail as 
he fell ; the bear, with his paws entangled in the Colonel ’s coat tail, 
was pulled over the edge and hung dangling in the air! So there 
they were, the horse holding by his front feet, the Colonel hanging 
to the horse ’s tail, and the bear hanging to the Colonel ’s coat tail ! 
It was a rather embarrassing position for the Colonel, so he at once 
proceeded to get busy. Letting go of the horse’s tail with one 


18 


liand, but still holding on with the other, he carefully drew his 
sheath knife from his belt and, reaching behind him, cut off his 
coat tail, so that the bear dropped into the valley, with a dull and 
muffled thud. Then, as the Colonel naively stated, using a trick well 
known to all cowboys, he jumped up into his saddle, where of course 
it was very easy, and a matter of a few moments, so to encourage 
and guide his horse that he was able to regain the trail safely. 

Returning by the road and proceeding up the canon along the 
bank of the stream, the Colonel found the bear where he had fallen. 
He removed the skin very carefully, had it properly cured, and 
still has it as a rug in his sitting room at Scituate. 


19 


THE BLACK BEAR STORY 


Once upon a time, little Martha with the golden hair went with 
her Grandpa to the Zoo. All the way she was telling him that she 
wanted most of all to see the monkeys, and perhaps an elephant, 
but she did want to see the little cunning monkeys. So when they 
arrived at the big Zoological Garden, and went in through the wide 
arched gate, Martha ran ahead just as fast as she could, trying to 
find the monkey cage ! But there were so many cages and so many 
animals to see she couldn’t help stopping to look at them. One 
was a yellow haired, fierce mountain lion, walking, walking, walk- 
ing to and fro all the time in his cage. Then an armadillo in his 
queer coat of mail, and some tiny white mice that Martha couldn’t 
keep her eyes off. A very large cage had an African lion, with 
his shaggy head, a very dangerous looking beast. Behind a fence 
of logs was a horned rhinoceros, his horn sticking out of his nose 
all ready to tear anything he could reach. In the muddy pond 
were some hippopotami buried deep down in the mud with only the 
end of the nose sticking out of the water, so that flies couldn’t bite 
them. Then all at once there was a trumpeting noise and several 
elephants came along, while Martha ran to Grandpa. Each ele- 
phant had a box on his back and the boxes were full of little chil- 
dren all having a ride. But Martha thought she would rather walk ! 

So Martha and Grandpa walked until they were tired, look- 
ing at all kinds of birds, snakes, butterflies, bugs and animals, 
when suddenly they saw the bear dens directly in front of 
them, and then Martha almost screamed out with delight, for there 
was a big Polar bear, pure white, with very heavy long fur, trying 
to keep cool on a hot day. In the next den there was a great brown 
ugly grizzly bear, so big he had to have an extra big cage, but 
when one of the visitors threw an apple to him he turned and 
ran to the edge of the den so quickly that everybody jumped back 
very much afraid. It showed how very quick the big bear was in 
his movements and how dangerous he would be to meet. 


20 


There was also a huge cinnamon bear, almost as big and fierce 
as the grizzly and several smaller brown bears, all walking end- 
lessly up and down — up and down — up and down. But suddenly 
Martha cried out to look at the cunningest little bear of all, a black 
bear cub, looking no bigger than a dog. Martha thought he was a 
perfect little dear, and wanted to climb in and play with him, he 
looked so tempting and pretty and soft. There was a boy stand- 
ing by the cage and Martha asked him if he knew about the bear. 
He said yes, he knew all about the little bear, for he caught him ! 
Then Martha was very excited and asked him all about it, and 
where he found him, and how he found him, and how he caught 
him, &c. This is what the boy told her — the story of the little 
cunning black bear. 

The boy, whose name was Jack, lived at a small lumber camp 
far back in the very heart of the Rocky Mountains, many, many 
miles awa}^ from the railroad and any town. His father was a 
lumberman, and was gone all day out in the woods, so Jack w^as 
left to himself a good deal of the time. He built a dam across a 
little brook that came bubbling down the hill close by his father’s 
cabin, and then put in a wheel that the water turned, and kept 
turning, over and over all the time, day and night. Then he tried 
to dig a tunnel into the hill so as to have a Pirate’s Cave, like 
Marguerite’s, but after he dug in a few inches, he came to solid 
rock that he couldn ’t do anything with, for he had no d3mamite to 
work with. So then he took down his father’s gun and went out 
into the woods to hunt. As he was walking slowly along by the 
side of the little brook, away up on the mountain he saw a very 
beautiful flower growing just on the side, where the ferns were 
thick and the Impatience and Monkey flower and Nightshade were 
all massed together. But as he climbed on a rock to reach over 
and pick the flower, he jumped up so quickly that he slipped on the 
wet mossy rock and went into the pool all over, for a bee had stung 
him on one finger. When he came out of the water, sputtering and 
gasping and shaking the water out of his hair, he had to go under 
the water again very quickly, for the air was full of angrj^ bees. 
So he swam under water to the other side, where he climbed over 
behind a big boulder and out onto the bank. But he was curious 
to know what made the bees so angry. So he crept around behind 
the bushes until he was quite close to the big angry mass of flying 


21 


bees. Tlien he saw that they were flying in and out of a big hole 
in an old tree by the water’s edge. As he looked closely, he saw 
that the hole was all daubed over with honey, and there were lines 
of honey down the back of the tree and on the rocks at its foot. 
So then he knew just what had happened ! A bear had found the 
honey tree, had climbed up and put his hairy paw into the hole 
and pulled out the honey, eating it as fast as he could, for bears 
are extravagantly fond of honey. The bees flew around him, try- 
ing to sting him, but his heavy fur was too thick and they couldn’t 
reach him. By and by he had all he wanted so climbed down the 
tree, with his nose and fur and paws all sticky with the honey ! 

Jack decided to follow the bear’s tracks, which he could easily 
do, for the bear dripped honey all along the way, so Jack followed 
the bear over the hill and down into a valley, then across another 
hill into a long canon, then far up the canon to a high ledge of 
rocks. Jack climbed the rocks very slowly, because he thought 
that perhaps the bear had his home nearby. And sure enough, all 
at once he saw an opening in the ledge, leading into a cave and the 
bear’s honey tracks led right into the cave ! But Jack was a brave 
boy, so holding his gun very carefully before him, he crawled very 
slowly and quietly into the mouth of the cave, a narrow place be- 
tween two rocks. Way back in the darkness of the cave. Jack saw 
two fiery blazing eyes, so he fired straight at them. The roar of the 
gun filled the cave, and there was also another roar as the bear 
rose to his feet and started for J ack, only to fall over — dead. Then 
Jack skinned the bear and while he was working over it he felt 
something brush his leg. Looking down in the dim light. Jack saw 
it was a little baby bear, the cutest, most cunning, darling, little 
bear cub you ever saw ! So he picked up the cub, took the skin of 
the old bear, and went home to his father, who told him he was a 
very brave boy. 

This was the story Jack told Martha, who was delighted. 
Then Martha and Grandpa went away, going past a great cage full 
of monkeys, but Martha was too tired even to look at them, for her 
head was nodding on Grandpa’s shoulder. 


I 

> 

> 


1 I ) 


22 


THE HAVANA DOLL 


On Board S. S. Morro Castle 

At Sea Nov. 23, 1919 
Below Hatteras 

Dear Martha Elizabeth, 

While your Uncle Charlie and I were walking along one of 
the narrow little streets in Old Havana, a street so old that 
very likely some of the famous old-time pirates may have walked 
through it, as we were admiring the beautiful scroll design of the 
iron work doors on the fronts of the houses, we were startled to hear 
a cry of “Fire!’^ “Fire!’’ “Fire!” and to smell smoke coming 
from one of the houses on the street. We rushed to the door, but 
it was heavy scrolled iron and barred on the inside. The windows 
were covered, too, with iron bars, so we could not get in. The cries 
increased, smoke and flame poured out, a crowd gathered, whistles 
blew, men called and shouted and the whole district was in an up- 
roar. Finally a woman in a nearby house opened her door to see 
the fire better, and we rushed in to the rear. There we found a 
garden surrounded by high walls. We climbed the wall and 
dropped into another garden all laid out in flower beds with a 
fountain playing in the centre, and birdcages hanging from posts. 
The door into the burning house was locked, but we broke it down, 
and plunged into the swirling smoke masses pouring out. We 
groped our way along, for we could hear the cries ahead of us, but 
growing fainter. The flames were eating at the doors, black smoke 
filled the halls, we saw flashes of flame through the darkness. We 
fell over half burned chairs that crumbled as we touched them, we 
stumbled on a long upholstered lounge smouldering red ; we stepped 
on pictures burned from the walls, and draperies still burning as 
they lay on the floors. In a room near the front we groped 
through the burning doorw^ay, throwing the broken door in front of 
us. The faint cries for help led us to the farther corner, where we 
felt all around, but could find nothing. Finally we lifted an empty 



23 


water pail, and there was a Spanish doll, still calling, crying, and 
sobbing. We carried her out to the garden, and the fresh air soon 
brought her around. While the house burned to the walls, and the 
firemen who had now come worked on the ruins, the doll told us her 
story. She was the same doll we saw on the boat! It seems she 
was alone in the house and was taking a little siesta, when the cat 
tried to pull the parrot out of its cage. Naturally the parrot didn’t 
like it, so grabbed the cat’s tail with his beak, and bit as hard as 
he could. Then the cat, startled and frightened, ran, dragging 
the parrot in his cage after him. They ran around the room bump- 
ing into tables and chairs, finally upsetting a tall lamp, which set 
fire to the room. The doll woke up, screamed, then ran under the 
water pail, and pulled it over her head to keep the smoke out ! But 
the cat and the parrot were both burned. The doll said her name 
was Esperanza Bianca Eugenie Carmelita Lolita Ramona 
Sanchez! As the poor little doll had lost her home and all her 
clothes, except those she had on, we invited her to visit your doll 
house. So we bought her a hat and brought her along. It may 
take her a little while to get accustomed to your ways, for she 
speaks Spanish and French only. She is learning to speak Eng- 
lish and can say Mamma” now. 

I am sure you will soon learn to love her, and will help her to 
forge.t her terrible experience in her burning Havana home. 

She says she once worked in a milliner’s store in Paris, so we 
went out and found one all set up and ready to use, which we 
brought along. I think she can easily earn her board by selling 
hats to 3^our other dolls ! 


24 


THE DRYAD 


For Martha Elizabeth, 

At Sea on way to Havana, 

Nov. 15, 1919. 

There was once a young man of exalted mind who so loved the 
beautiful in nature that he gave his life to its pursuit. He gloried 
in lofty mountains, he rejoiced in the vast wilderness of silence 
where Nature still rules supreme, he loved flowers and birds and 
beautiful trees and lived all his life in the open air under the blue 
sky of Heaven. 

One day in his wandering in vain search of the unattainable, 
he found himself in a narrow valley among the mountains — a gurg- 
ling brook was at his feet, he heard the soft call of the quail in the 
nearby wood, the air was still, the whole land vibrant with the 
mystery of life. Looking up to the top of the mountain above, he 
saw a great tree that dominated its whole vicinity with its massive 
grandeur. Its immensity, its loneliness, its unaccustomed posi- 
tion all added to its potent lure. He slowly climbed the heights, 
stopping at times to admire the increasing vistas and panoramas of 
views, until at last he stood by the side of the great tree. Then he 
marvelled at its enormous size, betokening a hoary age, and was 
impressed anew by the sweep of its branches and its graceful con- 
tour. He felt himself drawn by an irresistible attraction to 
the tree — a feeling he was unable to understand. He decided to 
camp under the tree, and after a few days its spell so entranced him 
that he resolved to build a cabin and live under its grateful shade. 
So after many days he was living in a small bungalow made of 
logs, with the spaces between filled with clay which soon dried. 
Every evening he watched the sunset from his seat under the tree, 
and every evening found him more and more in love with the tree. 

Impelled by his strange fascination, he wrote poems to the tree 
which he placed upon its trunk, and often addressed it in terms of 


25 


passionate adoration. One evening as the setting sun, a glowing 
ball of fire in the west, touched the distant line of hills, he saw a 
shadowy, indistinct figure by the tree, which he watched carefully, 
only to see it fade away as the last fiaming segment of the dying 
sun sank below the horizon. Evening after evening he watched 
for the shadowy figure, which he soon learned was that of the tute- 
lary dryad of the tree. He learned also that she could only appear 
at sunset and during the few minutes of the sun’s setting. As its 
edge touched the hills her doors were unlocked and she came out 
of the tree, only to be forced to return as the last rays glinted across 
the distant mountains. So he learned to listen and to wait for her, 
and to prize these few stolen moments above all the rest of the day ’s 
golden hours. He loved her, and he told her so, asking, begging, 
entreating, commanding her to come to him, only to be met with 
her invariable reply that her life was the tree’s, that she must live 
and die with it; that the tree would die were she to leave it and 
she would inevitably die with the tree. He vainly implored her to 
leave the tree, but she answered that her duty was to the tree and 
her reward life immortal among the blessed. 

The young man grew frantic in his protestations and demands 
and finally lost his head entirely, for one evening as she came to 
him with the sinking sun, he seized her in his arms and held her un- 
til after the last golden ray of sunshine had long since faded into 
gray darkness. That night a storm arose, thunder rolled over the 
mountains and lightning flashed incessantly. The wind moaned 
and whined louder and sharper, the cabin rocked, the great tree 
wrenched at its centuries-old roots. The moaning of the storm in- 
creased, a flash of bright and terrible lightning struck the tree and 
tore it apart, and with a crash of wrath and despair it fell across 
the cabin, sweeping and crushing, so that tree and cabin and all 
within went hurtling over the edge of the chasm into the silence of 
the depths far below. So died the tree when the dryad died, so 
died the drvad with the tree, so died the man who had broken the 
law. 


26 


THE KOSE AND THE VIOLET 


For Martha Elizabeth 

At Sea, off Nassau, Nov. 15, 1919. 

Once upon a time a little girl, with golden hair, lived in a great 
house with a beautiful garden. This garden was full of flowers of 
all kinds, and the fountain in its centre sprayed the beds around 
it with grateful impartiality. Far down in the comer where the 
haughty rose bushes kept their aristocratic isolation, the little girl 
planted a bed of violets close to the overhanging rose bushes, dig- 
ging in the rich soil and patting down the little hills where the vio- 
let seeds waited. The rose bushes were indignant at this intrusion, 
and their branches swayed, and quivered in the breezes, as they 
voiced their injuries, and sympathized with each other. They said 
it was a shame to plant such humble little plants as violets in the 
rich soil intended for their sole use, that the violet had no odor, 
was a very common flower, even at times growing wild in the woods, 
and it was necessary to put a great many in a big bunch to make 
them of any value, while they, the roses, were of royal blood, 
brought up in hothouses, carefully selected after many graftings; 
that a single rose was more imposing in its beauty than a whole 
bunch of violets, while the perfume made from crushed rose leaves 
was used by queens and princesses for its exquisite qualities. The 
tiny violets, hiding deep in the earth, heard all this and trembled 
at the thought of thrusting their heads into the view of the arro- 
gant rose beauties. But the warm rains came, the sunshine invited 
them, and they grew so fast that very soon they found their stems 
rising above the ground, each with its tiny flower folded in it. 
They didn T dare look up to the roses, but hugged close to the ground 
in the sheltering shade of the great stalks of the rose bushes tower- 
ing high above them. 

Then the rose bushes whispered together, and agreed to lean 
towards each other, so as to make a heavy shade over the little violet 


27 


bed, that no sunshine might reach it and thus slowly starve it to its 
death. But the rose bushes forgot, or perhaps didn’t know, that 
the timid violet loves the shade, and cannot live in the glare of the 
hot midday sun, so by their action in shading the violet bed they 
really saved the violets ’ lives, and gave them the chance to live and 
grow, and thrive in a wonderful way. The little girl came often to 
see her new flower bed, and the growing violets always turned their 
sweet faces toward her. But she was afraid of the great thorny 
rose stems, for they tore her clothes and caught her fingers until 
she cried. So the days went by, and Spring merged gradually into 
Summer. Roses covered the high bushes, long-stemmed white and 
gold and scarlet beauties, adorned with all the glorious brilliant 
magnificence of color, and form, and delicious perfume for which 
roses have been cherished for thousands of years. 

Then one of the ladies at the great house was given a ball, 
and the gardens were called on to furnish their best for the deco- 
rations. The palms were carried into the ball room and placed 
around the walls, flowers were put everj^here in riotous profusion. 
Ferns bordered the platforms, and bouquets were placed in every 
room for the guests. The proud lady of the house ordered the 
gardener to bring her the fairest of his roses, for her special use, 
and he went to the garden corner and looked carefully over all the 
roses. They all smiled on him, bent to him, smirked and preened 
themselves, opening their petals just a little so as to give him a 
glimpse of the hidden treasures. Each wanted to be chosen, each 
leaned over and trembled in its eagerness to attract his attention. 
The leaves rustled, the roses blushed and sighed, and the rose petals 
reflected the bright rays of the sun, and their perfume filled the air. 
All awaited with such eager expectancy the summons that meant, 
to them, the supreme glory of adulation, the ecstatic bliss of being 
chosen as the most beautiful of their race, to be praised, to be en- 
vied, to be placed for a brief moment on a pinnacle of glory. They 
had no thought for the modest violets beneath them, no care as to 
what became of them, they thought only of themselves and their 
beauty. The violets modestly bowed their heads before the splendor 
of the roses, and marvelled as they saw and realized their envy and 
rancor and evil pride in their arrogance of physical beauty. 

The gardener, unseeing, chose a stately blossom, all in red, its 
petals blood-rich in their opulence of color, its long stem stretch- 


28 


ing a full yard towards the sky. The chosen one held herself high 
as she was borne to the house, and the exclamations of delight, of 
wondering praise, of pleasure in her superb and surpassing beau- 
ties, were as balm to her shallow soul. The Lady of the House, dis- 
daining other ornament, fastened the lovely rose at her belt and 
went to receive her guests. A few moments of joy, of overweening 
pride was granted to the rose, then came disaster, ruin and dis- 
grace. For a chance quick movement by the hostess broke the stem 
of the queenly rose short off near the blossom, and with a motion 
that expressed surfeit, disdain, displeasure at loss, and careless 
disregard for the beautiful flower all in one, she tossed the broken 
rose on the floor to be trodden on, kicked about, despised, con- 
temned, spurned on every side, cast aside as worthless. Thrown 
out in the morning among the refuse, the brilliant color of the 
fading petals caught the eye of a poor waiting woman, who picked 
it up, smoothed it out, cut away the broken stem and withering 
leaves and put the despised and humbled rose into a glass of water. 

Meanwhile the little girl, barred from the festivities, wandered 
at will through the flower bordered paths of the great garden. She 
came to the rose garden, and saw the proud roses all bending their 
buds low, their stems parted to let the sunshine light up the small 
violet bed at their feet. With a cry of pleasure the little girl 
kneeled to put her face down to the pretty nodding graceful flowers, 
forgetting all about the thorn protected arrogant roses above her. 
She picked a little bunch of the violets, cool and fresh as the dew 
of morning, and went slowly by the great entrance door of the house, 
where her mother was standing at the foot of the staircase, in all 
the magnificence of her position. She saw the little girl, saw also 
the shy shrinking beauties of the violets she held, and at once called 
to her to give her the violets, to use in place of the broken rose she 
liad thrown away. The little girl gladly gave her mother the vio- 
lets, and she placed them in her belt, where their sweet retiring 
grace and innocence won many favorable notices during the even- 
ing. After the ball was over, the Lady of the House took out the 
bunch of violets from her belt, kissed them, said a sweet good night 
to them, and placed them in a rare vase of gold. And when, after 
many days, the rose in the servant’s garret and the violets in the 
vase of gold in the palace, withered and died, they were taken out in 
the garden and laid on the rock pile together. So in death they 


29 


were not divided. And together the souls of the two, the proud 
and the humble, the aristocrat of the garden and the flower of the 
wild woods, the arrogant princess of the blood and the modest maid, 
the rose and the violet were wafted through the azure to the throne 
of God, — their souls uniting and intermingling in humbleness, 
in praise and thanksgiving for the gift of life immortal. 


30 


THE STORY OP THE LEAF 


Once upon a time a great oak tree upon the lawn, at Twin 
Oaks, began slowly to send its sap into its branches, to liven them 
so the leaves would bud and blossom out, little soft fragile spires, 
red and gray and yellow. A little later the leaf began to take 
form and substance, a tender bit of green, yet assuming the un- 
mistakable shape of a black oak leaf. Of course the great tree, 
hoary from the frosts of many autumns, had many branches and 
each branch numberless leaves, but we will speak of a single leaf, 
that grew at the end of a large branch hanging far out over the 
lawn towards the house. She was apparently only an ordinary leaf, 
but she was a very vain leaf, and considered herself the most won- 
derful, beautiful, perfectly formed leaf that ever adorned a noble 
oak. So, as the leaf swayed slowly in the soft winds of the Spring- 
time, she spread herself out like a peacock, that the sunshine might 
illumine the whole of her surface. She grew prouder and prouder 
of herself, for the sunshine began to form a gloss on the leaf, so 
she turned and preened herself, and looked down on all the other 
leaves, as if they were inferior. 

Then one day a strange thing happened. Far down on the tree 
the little leaf saw one of the leaves begin to shed its radiant coat 
and to grow thin and lean, until the fibres, like bones, showed as a 
skeleton without flesh or beauty. The little leaf shuddered, for 
she knew something dreadful had happened and that she had seen 
the dying of a leaf. The rustling leaves told her that an army of 
little green worms had attacked the tree and were eating the leaves, 
so that soon none would be left. They were helpless and hopeless, 
for there was nothing they could do. If a leaf tried to break away 
when first a worm crawled upon it, it found it almost impossible to 
break the hold, and later, when dying, if it were able to break away, 
it meant only that the despairing leaf floated to the ground with 
the worm still fastened to it unhurt. The little leaf, high upon the 
oak, watched daily the advancing wave of death sweeping from leaf 


31 


to leaf, branch to branch. Already cloudy white nests of filagree 
joined the bare branches together, and the tree seemed doomed to 
die. The little leaf, so proud of her beauty, so happy in her young 
life, so brilliant in the sheen of her glistening surface, grew nearly 
frantic in her terror and despair. Daily the dead leaves fell, leav- 
ing the tree bare as if blasted by disease. The worms fed, and 
climbed higher and higher, and all the lower part of the old tree 
was lifeless. Then one day the terrible end came. A little green 
worm crawling slowly down the great branch saw the beautiful 
leaf at the end, and at once came to her and began to cross on the 
under side. The little leaf gave a shudder, then with deliberate 
self-sacrifice began to shake herself as hard as she could, trying 
to tear away from the tree to go floating down to death. In that 
moment the soul of the leaf shone white and clear. She forgot all 
her vain imaginings, forgot her beauty, and her grace of form, and 
became a heroine of romance, ready to give up life to repel the in- 
vader. So she twisted and squirmed, and shook, and shivered until 
by some fortunate accident the worm was shaken from its clinging 
hold and fell, turning endlessly, far to the ground. The little leaf 
could hardly believe it, but surely the worm was gone, and the 
only evidence of his recent presence was a long scar across the under 
leaf, that later turned to a faint gold — a visible symbol of abiding 
honor. 

The next day came the tree sprayers, and the worms were 
caught and fell by thousands. But the little leaf had saved herself, 
and, save for the faint fading line of gold, was as beautiful as ever. 
But she was no longer a proud and haughty beauty, she was only a 
leaf, trying to do her duty and to help to save the old tree that had 
been so cruelly abused. 

The summer passed and in the air was a chill that spoke of 
the fast coming winter. The tree had put forth a new dress of 
green leaves and was again its old self. The little leaf felt the 
kiss of the North Wind and her soul expanded in beauty. The 
emerald sheen turned to brilliant scarlet, with browns outlining 
the delicate network of veins, and the under side turned to gold, al- 
most concealing the faint track which now became a golden brown, 
a line of beauty across the golden wealth of color. So the leaf be- 
came wonderfully beautiful, and joy sang in her heart all the day. 
Then one day the little golden-haired daughter of the house in cross- 


32 


ing the lawn, caught sight of the vision of beauty and threw up her 
hands to it, crying out that it was so pretty she wanted it. Her 
father brought a long ladder, and carefully picked the splendid 
leaf, full of rich color to every spreading point. The mission of the 
leaf was done, she had lived her life in honor, now after death she 
was immortalized. 

The little girl kept the bright colored leaf in the glass edge by 
her bureau for many, many years, for the coloring never died. So, 
through self-sacrifice, the little leaf gained both true beauty and 
kindly recognition, in grateful tribute to that beauty, in the loving 
heart of the little golden haired girl. And across the leaf still 
shows faintly the streak of brown on the gold, now become a radiant 
line of beauty, a bar of service, of martyrdom, of honor. 











































4 


• I 




i 


/ 


./-Ai-vO ^ 









/ ) • '. 


’ S' 



: 

•t 


# 


» , '~t 


.;» 



♦ ' ■ .L.j 




■> 


' i * 


% 





.1 


' *•'•.•' ,i 

. 1 . » . • 






I 






UBIUAY OF CONGRESS 













